


Chuck vs Thin Air

by enter_fand0m_reference00



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Chuck has no fighting abilities, Chuck in danger, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, John Casey is soft actually, M/M, Original Character(s), Suffering, The Intersect (Chuck), just a little bit though, pre-intersect update
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enter_fand0m_reference00/pseuds/enter_fand0m_reference00
Summary: Casey is tortured by someone who wants to know the identity of the human intersect, but when torture doesn't seem to be working they call in a computer emergency.Listen I saw S3,E7 and thought "yeah something like this but maybe gay" and here we are
Relationships: Chuck Bartowski/John Casey
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Chuck vs Thin Air

Casey came back to himself slowly at first and then all at once. 

“Fuck.” He grumbled, the fluorescent lights adding to the pounding headache that came from being knocked out. 

It had been a while since whoever the group was had gotten the drop on him and he had barely had time to fight back-- though he did get a nice hit in on one of the guys who had cornered him in the parking lot-- before they had injected him with… something. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what it could have been, but he sure was feeling whatever it was now, his head and body ached and the fluorescent lights shining in his eyes and tight ropes tying him to the chair were not helping at all. 

“Oh, Major Casey, nice to see you awake.” A weirdly familiar voice broke through his wandering thoughts. “I was beginning to wonder how much longer it would take you to join the land of the living with us. I expected you to put up more of a fight, to be honest. Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”

Casey growled, but otherwise didn’t respond.

“Yep. That’s the Casey I know.” The person speaking finally stepped around Casey’s side so that he could see him.

“Ah, It’s you, I should have known rat when I smelled it,” Casey said baring his teeth in a semblance of a smile.

“Charming as ever.” David Harris responded. He had been on one of Casey’s teams once-upon-a-time as a new agent; Casey had clocked him as a mole not long in, fought him, beat him, and then dropped him down a deep dark NSA hole. That had been the end of the story, at least as far as Casey had been aware, so it was anyone’s guess as to how he was here now, but however he got here it could only mean one thing: trouble.

“Harris, I thought you were still in a box befriending rats. What are you doing out in the sun?”

“The Ring was kind enough to give me a new lease on life. And don’t you worry, Major, I haven’t forgotten that box yet and I’ll be sure to pay you back kindly for it.”

“Heh.” Casey let out. “Sure. By the way, it’s Colonel now.”

“Of course it is,” Harris said and Casey could practically hear the eye-roll in his tone.

“So, what would the Ring possibly need from you to be worth the effort of getting you out?” Casey asked, being sure to put as much emphasis on ‘you’ as possible.

Harris grabbed a chair and turned it around so that he could sit facing Casey, straddling the chair and folding his arms on top of the back of the chair. “Finally getting down to business, Major, you used to be quicker about these things.”

Casey only looked at him in response.

“Here’s the thing, the Ring is looking for something important and they have good reason to believe that you know something about something and when I was down in that hole I may have over-sold how well we knew each other.”

“Aw, couldn’t fight your own fights, Harris?”

“Unfortunately, seeing as how we aren’t that great of friends, I assumed I would have to take a different, less pleasant tactic with you.”

Casey huffed as a response.

“Thus the drugging you in a shopping center parking lot,” Harris said with a little shrug. “All this to say… are you familiar with something called the intersect?”

Casey forgoed saying anything and Harris gave a dramatic sigh.

“Let’s speed this along, shall we?” Harris took on a more serious demeanor. “I know you are familiar with the intersect project, so you are going to tell me who the intersect is or things are going to get very hairy. It will be a lot of fun for me, but very little fun for you.”

Without knowing it, Harris had revealed everything Casey needed to know. He didn’t know who the intersect was, Bartowski was safe, probably at work wondering why Casey didn’t join him and Grimes for Subway and a little too worried as he tended to get when he let his anxiety take over, but safe.

“Do your worst, Harris. I’m excited to see if you’re still just as shit at all this as before.”

“I’m not playing, John,” Harris stated, a bit of annoyance leaking into his voice. “This isn’t a game.”

He stood and walked over to a table of different metallic instruments.

“I did warn you.” He said softly. “Last chance,” he strode over, taking ahold of one of Casey’s fingers where Casey’s hands were tied to the armrests of the metal chair. He fixed a small set of pliers to the pinky nail. “Who is the intersect?”

Casey growled at him and Harris smiled right before he yanked as hard as he could on the pliers, taking Casey’s right pinky nail with him.

\-----

Harris sat in the seat across from Casey again, this time with his feet propped up on the table that had held the different torture devices, seemingly taking a break from torturing Casey.

Casey was leaned forward against the rope wound around his chest. Blood from a split in his forehead was getting into his left eye and it wasn’t being helped by the cold water dripping down his face. He was missing a couple more nails than when they had started and he had a couple new burns and cuts along his abdomen and arms. They hadn’t tried to pull any teeth yet, which he was fairly glad about-- the trip to the dentist was never fun-- but he was sure it was coming up.

Harris leaned back casually. “It’s nice to take a little bit of a break isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah,” Casey grunted, “I bet it’s hard work torturing me.”

Harris gave a wry chuckle. He leaned over and picked up a duffle bag that had been laying, seemingly forgotten, on the floor next to the table. 

“That’s my bag, dickhole.” Casey informed him.

“Is it really?” Harris asked with a smile. “Well, why don’t we have a look-see while we’re taking a break.”

Casey growled, but didn’t really fight against his bonds at all. There wasn’t much point, the ropes were nicely secured and he didn’t feel like adding any more rope burns to his collection of injuries.

“Seems like a lot of guns for a trip to the gym, don’t you think?” Harris questioned jokingly, pulling out one of the pistols and running his hands over it appreciatively. “They do look nice though, you take such good care of them.” He admired the polished white grip on it before dropping it back into the bag carelessly. 

He repeated that with a couple more guns before he seemed to get bored with Casey’s lack of response. He dug through the bag a little more, pulling out Casey’s workout clothes and tossing them to the side before he pulled out Casey’s phone.

“Ooo, now this looks promising,” Harris said, smiling. He opened Casey’s phone after a couple of random guesses at the passcode. And began to fiddle around with the phone.

“Damn, Casey. Fifteen missed calls from a ‘Bartowski’ guy? Looks like someone is worried.” Harris gave a little pout as if it wasn’t his fault Casey wasn’t answering his phone.

Goddamn Bartowski, of course, he would be incessant. 

“He’s a coworker at my cover job. And a pain in my ass. Nosey manager, that’s all.” Casey stated, hoping that the lie was smooth enough despite the hitch of worry in his chest now. What was wrong with him? He was usually so much better at lying than this.

“Ah yeah, managers, am I right?” Was Harris’ flippant response before he looked Casey dead-on. “So you wouldn’t mind if I gave a listen to one of his multiple voicemails?”

Goddamn Bartowski!

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘sure’ and I’ll put it on speaker for our listening pleasure.”

Harris clicked on the first voicemail.

“Uh hey, Casey,” Chuck’s metallic voice came through the phone, “We, uh-- Morgan and I missed you at lunch. I’m assuming you’re probably doing something super important and badass, just… I don’t know, I haven’t really seen you since this morning so just give me the high-sign that you’re alive and haven’t been crushed by a set of barbells or something. Okay? Okay.”

“You’re right he sounds like a real asshole manager type.” Harris shook his head in mock sympathy. “Let’s listen to the next one!” He said before Casey could come up with a defense.

“So I’m freaking out a little Casey. No one seems to be able to get ahold of you and you didn’t tell any of us that you had other plans which you usually do even if you won’t tell us what they actually are and just… um, please don’t be dead. And if you’re in the middle of something just shoot a quick call or something so I can stop freaking out! Not that I don’t believe in your superhuman abilities to be fine all the time, but… just call, okay?!”

“I’ll give him this, he doesn’t sound like NSA or CIA at all. Not even FBI.”

“He isn’t.” Casey gritted out, praying that he wasn’t revealing too much, but afraid that if he let Harris carry on with the idea that Bartowski was actually a spy it would spell even worse things for Chuck. “He’s a civilian.”

“Who works at the Buy More and sends NSA agents worried messages when they don’t eat lunch with him?”

“Yes,” Casey said through a grimace. “He’s just a civilian who gets overly attached to his coworkers.”

“Ah yes, coworkers.” Harris sighed. “You do keep such a tight lid on these things, Casey, but I find these cute little contact photos and lock screens just aren’t agreeing with you. Don’t tell me the Colonel actually made friends with a civilian?” Harris mockingly pretended to clutch a strand of pearls, studying Casey’s face.

“Unless…” Harris got into Casey’s space and Casey turned his face away, “Unless you mean to tell me it’s something more? Are you into men, Colonel? Cute, frail, nerdy men who are civilians, Colonel?”

“It’s not like that,” Casey growled. “I work with him at a cover job and I make friendly because it’s my cover job, there’s nothing more to that.”

“So you haven’t admitted your feelings? Or he turned you down. Oh! I wish I could’ve seen that happen. Big, scary John Casey, turned down by a bean-pole. I wish I had known about all this before, my tactics would’ve been different. Would I have been your type, Casey? How long would it have taken for you to realize and accept that I was turned against you if we had been fucking on the side? Would it have stung? To have to put me away.”

“Now you’re just making up bullshit, Harris.”

Harris sighed dramatically and moved back slightly, out of Casey’s personal space. “Maybe. But here’s the thing… We actually hacked your phone while you were still out, so I’ve already had a good listen to the voicemails and I've perused your text history and pictures. So maybe I am just making up shit. Let's find out together."

With that Harris wrenched Casey's chair to the side causing the metal to screech against the floor as he turned him to face a bank of glass looking into a display room of some sort. Casey felt his heart stop as a familiar lanky frame with soft brown curls stepped into the display room.

"Uh oh, looks like someone called in a computer emergency." Harris chuckled, glee tinging his tone. "Oh and don't bother signaling or calling out, it's one-way glass and soundproof-- well, at least until I touch this button, so…" 

Harris clicked the last voicemail and set the phone down next to Casey to play as two guys led Chuck over to the broken computer he thought he was here to fix.

"...Hey Casey. I, uh, you know I really am starting to worry. Like real worry, not the kind that I can say is me just being generally worried about everything. I'm almost, almost off-shift then I am absolutely coming over to your house and if you are asleep or playing with guns or something and not answering my calls-- or Sarah's calls or Big Mike, then I am never letting this go. Ever. But if you are, like, really really dying or captured by Russians Red Dawn style then… um… please don't, I just told Ellie we were getting closer so… that would be super embarrassing. Please, please, please call me back before I call down the entire CIA or something insane. Okay, um, I care about you. Bye."

Casey closed his eyes on the last line. Care about him? Really Bartowski?

Harris smiled down at Casey. "Final chance, Casey. Who is the human intersect? And Chuck Bartowski can go home, none the wiser to anything that has happened today."

Casey grit his teeth and stared straightforward, unresponsive.

"Maybe he is just a coworker, if you actually cared about him you would've stopped it right here. Wanna see how far you can hold out?" Harris asked. 

Before Casey could respond he was speaking into an earpiece. "Step out and seal the door."

The two guys who had led Chuck to the 'computer emergency' did just that, stepped out of the room and closed the door behind them. Chuck glanced up in confusion as the door locked in place, but it was already too late.

"Alright Casey," Harris began, stepping over to a control panel. "The air is about to get real thin in there for our friend. Last chance to send him home thinking nothing too bad happened."

Again Casey stared straight forward. Giving Chuck away as the intersect would not help him, he only hoped that Chuck's tracking watch was still on him and working.

Harris sighed. "Fine." He flipped one of the switches on the panel. "There's now no more air going into the display room. Of course, he won't notice right away, though I'm sure panicking about being locked in a room is going to speed that along a good bit. How much time will he have to panic before he suffocates do you think?"

True to Harris' word, Chuck was beginning to panic slightly. He was pounding on the door and tugging at the handle, begging to be let out, though Casey couldn't hear anything he was saying.

Casey decided to try one last thing. "Harris please, he's a civilian. He doesn't know anything about any of this. Please let him go."

Harris turned to him with an incredulous expression. "John Casey… begging?! He means more to you than I thought." Harris mused. "Unfortunately, he became part of this when you decided to care about him. This is just what you get when you want to live both lives, Casey."

In the room Chuck paused in hitting the door and put a hand against his chest, focusing on trying to take a deep breath in.

"Do you think he's put together that the oxygen is running out or do you think he thinks it's his panic?" Harris wondered out loud.

"Harris, stop this," Casey said with all the command left in his voice.

"You can! Just tell me who the intersect is."

When Casey didn't respond other than a growl Harris rolled his eyes. "Fine, but I think your boy-toy deserves to know who is putting the nail in his coffin, don't you?"

With that Harris pushed the button that caused the windows to be two-way rather than one.

Casey saw Chuck turn to face the bank of windows, obviously still short on breath. He looked perplexed for a moment, tilting his head in a way that reminded Casey of a puppy, before his lips moved to form the word "Casey?" Though Casey could still not hear him through the soundproofing.

"Oh Casey," Harris said, walking over to his side again. "How are you going to explain this one to him if he gets out?"

Harris' movement caused Chuck's eyes to leave Casey for a sec and Casey saw him make the stupid face he always made when he flashed and was instantly greatful that Harris was either too absorbed in the fun he was having or assumed Chuck was already out of it.

Chuck shook his head, trying to clear it and catch his breath, to no avail. He stumbled slightly, losing his balance but catching himself.

“Come on, Colonel, just tell me who the human intersect is and then it’ll all be over.” Harris prompted.

Casey didn’t answer him, his eyes still glued on Chuck who was definitely struggling to breathe at this point. Casey’s hands were damp and his wrists screamed and it was only then that he realized he was tugging on the ropes so hard they had actually cut through the skin at his wrists and bloodied his hands worse than the missing nails already had. 

Chuck was trying to say something to him but it was too complicated to pick up with lip-reading alone and it didn’t help that the panic of being short on air was making Chuck speak extremely fast. Chuck moved forward as if he might be able to reach Casey and this time when he stumbled he didn’t catch himself and instead fell against the wall and slid to the floor, chest heaving as he struggled for air that wasn’t there.

A crash came from behind Casey and he craned his head to see as the door to the little room was kicked open to reveal Sarah. Casey had never been so happy to see the CIA skirt in his life. Harris did not share his sentiments and reached for a weapon from the table closest to him.

Sarah swiped a knife against the rope at his wrist and then handed him the knife as she turned to face Harris who turned tail and ran.

“You have to get him, Sarah, he’s connected Chuck to us.” Casey grit out as he worked on the ropes binding his other wrist.

Sarah turned to him with wide-eyes and then took off after Harris, going faster than Casey thought he had ever seen her run.

The ropes at his wrist snapped and then the one at his chest and finally his ankles. Stumbling slightly from weak legs he headed towards the glass. 

Chuck had apparently dragged himself along the wall and was now leaning against one of the glass panes looking at Casey through half-lidded eyes. 

“Hold on, Bartowski. I just have to figure out what does what on the panel, okay? Just hold on for me.” Casey said though he was pretty sure Chuck couldn’t hear a thing he was saying.

He pulled himself over to the panel and stared at it in dismay, nothing was intuitive or even labeled. He pressed different buttons and they seemed to have no effect. Casey growled, feeling helpless as he watched Chuck’s eyes close.

“Fuck it.” Casey barked and stumbled over to the duffel bag which lay abandoned on the floor.

Pulling out one of the pistols he aimed for a section of glass that wasn’t right next to Chuck and prayed it worked.

The glass shattered and Casey was through it and pulling Chuck out of the airless room before the sound of the shot had stopped echoing. He sat on the floor next to the chair he had been tied to with Chuck in his arms.

“Come on, Bartowski. I got you out, now breathe!” Casey demanded, shaking him slightly, but Chuck’s head just lolled. 

“No, no, no. I got to you on time, I did. Breathe, idiot.” Casey’s voice hitched slightly and he blinked against a dampness in his eyes. Normally that would be embarrassing to him, but now he could care less he just needed Chuck to breathe.

“Chuck, please, come on.” He said softly as he sought out a pulse. He found it against Chuck’s neck, he was alive, just not breathing which meant he didn’t need CPR, but he did need mouth-to-mouth.

Finally-- mercifully-- Casey’s training kicked in and he laid Chuck on the floor, tipping his chin back and plugging his nose. It wasn’t beautiful or sweet or whatever the fuck movies seemed to think rescue breathing was. Casey could only follow each set of instructions he had so diligently memorized with a sort of robotic-ness as he worriedly kept checking Chuck’s pulse in case.

Casey paused a sec and leaned his ear next to Chuck’s mouth and felt the gentlest whisper of an exhale and Casey could have rejoiced. And he almost did, except Chuck came gasping back to the land of the living, smacking his head full force against Casey’s. Chuck fell back to the floor with a groan as Casey leaned back with a sharp “Fuck!” putting his hand against the throbbing side of his head.

“Sorry, Casey! Sorry! I--” then Chuck paused and looked around them at the shattered glass and the duffel bag abandoned on the floor with at least four guns visible inside, the table with torture devices, and the chair surrounded by cut rope. 

“You saved me.” He exhaled softly and turned to Casey with one of those wide, off-kilter smiles that immediately dropped. “Oh my God, you are bleeding! We need to get you to the hospital! Like right now, hospital!”

Casey found himself smiling. “I’ll be fine, I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Oh my God, you’re delirious,” Chuck stated worriedly, eying the gash on Casey’s forehead in particular.

“No, no, I just-- I care about you too, Chuck,” Casey said, his expression still soft.

“...too?” Chuck said, confused for a moment before he buried his face in his hands. “Oh no, you listened to my voicemails. Wait! Too! As in also?”

“Mhmm,” Casey said as he finally let himself lay back in relief.

“Wait, wait, Casey, you can’t nap here. We need to talk… and you need to go to the hospital! You distracted me!” Chuck accused.

Sarah came striding back in. “Chuck are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, almost died, but not quite so I’m fine. Casey needs to go to the hospital though.”

“I assumed as much, I called in reinforcements on my way here so they just took Harris away and an ambulance is in route.”

“Oh good. I guess we just have to keep Casey awake or something until they come?”

“You know I can hear you both, right?” Casey grumbled, but otherwise submitted to being fussed over while they waited for the paramedics.

\-----

Casey woke up in a hospital bed and immediately grumbled at the lights shining in his eyes once again.

"There's the Casey I know." A familiar voice said and Casey looked over to see Chuck sitting in the chair next to the bed, smiling. "You fell asleep on the way here, but apparently the whole idea of keeping a concussed person awake is a myth or something and we weren't even sure if you actually had a concussion so the paramedics let you sleep. You're all bandaged up and you should be good for release as soon as the doctors check you out."

"Good. Hospitals all smell like antiseptic, I want to be home." Casey admitted.

"I feel you there," Chuck said, nodding sagely.

"Wait, you almost died, you should--"

"Already got checked out, Colonel. I was good to go an hour ago, but I sort of lied and told them I was your fiancé so that I could hang out here without being bothered instead."

Casey gave a huff of a laugh and nodded. "I see. Trying to steal my drugs?"

"What? No. I was doing something nice, Casey, and you are ruining it."

"Mm, okay. Thank you, Chuck, for sitting next to my unconscious body."

"You did it again."

"Did what?"

"Called me Chuck. You aren't delirious right now though. Are the pain meds that strong?" Chuck asked, tilting his head.

"Nothing I haven't had," Casey said evenly.

"So why…" Chuck trailed off as if unsure.

"Do you know why you were there?" Casey asked quietly.

"I-- um. I assumed it's because they had put together that I was the…" He glanced around real quick. "The, uh, thing. Or they thought I was part of the project, I don't know maybe CIA or something. It wouldn't make much sense to kill the thing, but maybe if they thought I was just some agent… though they didn't question me which is weird…"

Casey grimaced and Chuck caught the expression and glanced at him curiously. 

Casey hesitated a moment and then sighed. “You were there because they connected you to me.”

“Oh… oh?”

“Yeah,” Casey stated, watching Chuck’s face. “They-- Harris, in particular, figured out that I cared about you and so they tried to use you against me when torture wasn’t working. They had no clue that you were connected to the project anyway. You were there because of me.”

Chuck gave a small snort of a laugh and Casey turned to his bewildered. Chuck shook his head and waved his hand. “Sorry, sorry, just… uh, I’m not sure, but I don’t really remember it being your voice that called in the computer emergency. Listen, Casey, I know you like to do this whole tough-guy thing, but you really can’t blame yourself for this, you can’t control what crazy and evil people do-- I mean, I don’t actually know if that guy was crazy, but he definitely had a look in his eye, y’know? But, I mean, you’re saving me more often than you are putting me in danger, so net-positives or something--”

“You’re babbling.”

“Am I?” Chuck asked, surprised. “I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to get out in front of the self-blame thing that I felt like you were building up to because, well, y’know, I like you… um… like, like-like you.”

“That’s a lot of ‘likes’ there, Bartowski.”

“Oh… sorry,” Chuck said looking away from him, wringing his hands a bit.

Casey realized his mistake after a moment and reached over, putting one of his large square hands over Chuck’s thin ones. “I like you too.”

“Oh?” Chuck asked, looking back to Casey with a smile. “Like like?”

Casey felt like rolling his eyes. “I care about you, Chuck. I have for a while.”

“Me too! I care about you too.”

Casey smiled, a real smile without holding back anything and grabbed Chuck’s stupid Nerd Herd tie and pulled him closer. Chuck immediately gave in, leaning further forward so that their lips met. It was gentle and sweet, all the things Chuck hadn’t expected Casey to be underneath it all.

They finally broke apart after a small eternity and Chuck looked at Casey, mystified. “Maybe… uh… maybe we can go out for coffee together. After the bandages are off your hands that is.”

“Absolutely,” Casey answered, pulling him close to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't roast me for not knowing what lack of oxygen actually does to a motherfucker, I wrote this instead of a paper that is already overdue so I really wasn't looking anything up lol. I just like Casey worrying about an in-danger Chuck and there weren't enough fics about that so... enjoy, I guess!


End file.
